really i need to stop thinking so hard bout this paper and just write it

Nice to see y'all are enjoying these time traveling shenanigans just as much as I am! (・ω・)ノ

————

ZENYATTA:
He was assigned to you in the beginning, as a councilor of sorts. That was something he would never mind doing; he enjoyed helping anyone who wanted it.

However, something about you seemed different than others he had worked with.

Yes, you were frazzled- an expected response- but you accepted him, trusted him, at a much faster rate than he was used to.

It was……..refreshing?

Either way, you quickly became one of his favorite students and closest friends. His team of two suddenly became a group of three, and he was left with a confusing feeling, striking him silent in the most peculiar moments.

“You called me master?” Genji peaks around the open door leading out to a close grassy cliff side, perfect for meditation.

“Yes, do you have time to speak with me?” Zenyatta sits there, petting a stray cat in his lap, under the shade of a large tree.

“I do.” He settles next to his master, cross legged as always. “May I ask about what?”

“Of course,” he rests his hand on the back of the purring cat, “I wish to speak of my emotions. They have become more and more confusing as time passes.”

Genji nods in agreement. “I understand. I will do my best to help you master.” He folds his hands in his lap. If he was being honest, he didn’t feel anywhere near qualified to assist him.

“I am glad.” He hums, “Now where to begin?” He taps his chin. “Perhaps the warmth in my chest.”

“Warmth? Are you sure it is emotion causing it?”

“Yes. I had a doctor check it.” He sets his hand on his chest plate, “I believe it is caused by my body overworking itself due to unknown circumstances. It is a feeling akin to a fierce battle; though, one is not occurring at the time.”

“And, when does it happen?”

“During the normalities of my daily routine.” He lowers his hand and glances at it, “There are times as well were I cannot think, or am forgetful. Though, it is not happening now.”

“That is interesting. You still have no idea what the cause is?”

“No.” He sighs. “Do you have any suggestions, my student?”

“I am not sure. Human and Omnic emotions sometimes differ,” he pauses, “however, if you were human, I would think that you were either sick, or had a crush.”

“A crush?” It was more of a statement than a question. “Yes, that would make sense.”

“It would? But, on who?” Though he tried to hide it, his extreme curiosity coated his words.

“Hmm. Perhaps [y/n].” He begins to pet the cat again, and it lets out a contempt chirp. “Yes, as I think about it, I believe it is correct.” He beams at Genji. “Thank you.”

“It is no problem.”

GENJI:
Good friends, to Genji, were hard to come by. Sure, he had many acquaintances, but not many people above that.

It took maybe a day of knowing each other to move into friendship. He was ecstatic, to say the least, to find someone so fond of his presence, and who would also laugh at his lame jokes (to which he told a lot).

“High five!” You boast, and he complies, following it up with a fist bump. Childish, he knew, but he was allowed to be such. “Haha! Nice.”

“No fair!” Lúcio fakes a huff. “I’m not used to going on three! I panicked!”

“Okay, my turn.” You place your fist in your palm, determination in your eyes, “Me and you, death match.”

“I will not lose to you again!” He readies his stance, Angela counts down, and you both release your weapons.

“Paper beats rock, Genji wins.” She announces.

Lúcio knowingly sets his hand on your shoulder as your head falls. “Looks like we got cleaning duty.” You groan loudly and he nods solemnly, “Me too.”

“It’s best to get started now.” Angela starts, shooing the two of you out. “The storage room needs a lot of work.”

“We know,” you sigh and turn to leave, “c'mon Lúcio.”

As soon as the door shuts behind you, Genji begins his speed walk out, only to be stopped by Mercy’s expecting hum.

“You weren’t expecting to leave without giving me an update, now were you?” His shoulders droop, knowing he’s already lost.

“No, of course not Doctor Ziegler.” Curse his polite nature! He knew she only wanted to gossip, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be rude enough to lie in order then leave.

She clasps her hands excitedly and smiles wide. “So, any new developments?”

“No, nothing has changed.” Her smile disappears slightly.

“Still nothing?” He nods and she frowns, “Genji, I thought Saturday was the day!”

“It was.” He crossed his arms, pausing his thought, carefully choosing his words. “Until I accidentally spilled juice on them.”

She was struck with silence. “I- and how did that happen?”

He places his head into his hand, “I was……….showing off…….”

“Genji,” he hears her scolding him, “we talked about this!”

“Yes, I recall.” He runs his hand down his faceplate, “I was nervous and not thinking. I did apologize, but that may have made things worse.”

“Is that why there was broken glass on the floor?”

“Yes.”

She let out a short sigh, “You do tend to make a big fuss around them.” Steam leaks from his shoulders and he turns his head away. She shakes her head, tapping her foot against the floor. “Maybe it would be easier if you didn’t try so hard. I’m afraid, at this rate, you might end up really hurting someone.”

He shifts on his feet and nods slightly. “You are right. I should try to handle this less forcibly.”

“Do you want me to brain storm ideas with you?” She offers.

He perks up a small bit, “It would be most appreciated.”

MCCREE:
It was no secret that you were immediately shy upon meeting the cowboy. But there was something else about you, something……..odd.

Maybe that wasn’t the best way to put it- yet he didn’t know what else it would be. So, his curiosity drove him to you. He needed to know what it was.

Now, believe it or not, Jesse was a smart man; and when feelings started to occur, he immediately started to distance himself, only to realize that he was in too deep.

For him, a fling was something he could handle. Real romance? Haha! No.

“Hey! Mr. Jesse, any chance I could talk with you?” Oh, it was that Lúcio kid. What could he want to talk about? They weren’t exactly friends; more like acquaintances.

“Sure, I guess?” He shoves his hand into his pocket, and uses the other one to scratch his beard. “‘Bout what, exactly?”

“[y/n]-” Why you? What about you would he want to talk about? Oh. Oh god! The jig is up, he knows; he’s gonna tell you! Abort, ABORT.

“You doin’ okay over there, buddy?” Lúcio sways slightly on his heels, “You’re getting a little pale.”

He coughs in his hand to rid himself of nerves. “Yeah, just dehydrated, I reckon.” His body feels a bit more clunky, “I didn’t quite catch what you said there before.”

Moment of truth. He knew this day was coming, but did he prepare for it? No.

“If you say so…” He wasn’t entirely convinced; it was written all over his eyes.

He distantly remember you telling him that Lúcio was incredible at reading people, and that wasn’t helping him calm down one bit.

“I was just asking what you thought I should get for their birthday?”

Ah.

Well, doesn’t he just feel like an idiot.

“I’m sure whatever’s fine.” He wanted this conversation to end so that he could go to his room and scold himself for getting so worked up over nothing.

“Are you sure your okay? Nothing’s up?” There was a pause, not long enough for him to respond. “Is it about [y/n]?”

“Uh-”

“It is!” He exclaims, pointing. Man, he was good at reading people.

“No, it’s not!” Jesse crosses his arm, glancing around the room. He’d rather not talk about this in a public place.

“I promise I won’t tell no body!” This boy was getting excited. He shuffles over to him and jokingly jabs his side with his elbow. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll be my present to them, huh?”

“Now that’s just ridic-”

“Oh my god. I was just joking! I didn’t know that you actually liked them!” How much more excited could this kid get?

“Look, I don’t really want to talk about it.” He lifts his hat off his head, runs his fingers through his hair, and places it back on his head. “Not here, anyway.” He gestures to the open, and thankfully empty, lounge.

“Oh yeah, got it!” The Dj whispers at him with a wink. “I’m totally willing to help you out, dude!”

“I….. just might take you up on that offer.”

“Really!?”

“Not if you keep shouting!”

“Sorry.”

———-

I really like writing Lúcio……. Can you tell?

(I’m also really tired, so please excuse my mistakes ( ´ ▽ ` )ノ)

The Season Finale/Bye, Boys

I know I’m late - I had to work all day yesterday and today, and when I first got those jobs I’d anticipated I’d be frustrated about missing the finale live, but, well - after last week’s episode, I mostly wasn’t interested at all. When I sat down tonight to watch it, I almost didn’t want to. I was highkey convinced I wouldn’t like it, and, yeah, I didn’t. Not particularly. I’ve suspected for a while that Supernatural lost its grandeur and sense of tragedy years ago, and all that’s left is a bunch of occasionally magnificent, but mostly unconnected, monster hunts - that they’re grasping at straws to avoid going down paths that would actually make sense because they don’t want to go there - and this finale confirmed all that with the subtlety of a badly driven tank. 

(Really - I was hoping things would be different, but they’re not. As much as this show held my hand and made me laugh and cry in difficult moments and distracted me when real life was plain unbearable, the magic is no longer there. I watched the finale with that same awful weight in your stomach you feel when faced with that one person you no longer love - when you look and look and you don’t understand how you could ever love them in the first place, and then your eye catches something - they way their mouth curves into a smile, perhaps, or the once beloved lilt in their voice, and you realize that oh, that’s how

But still, it’s over.)

So, what happens next?

The honest answer is, I don’t know. I’ve been mostly off tumblr for a week, and while I missed chatting and talking with you guys, this self-imposed break really brought home just how my world has shrunk. I tend to be very intense in what I like, and over the last year, 90% of my free time has been Supernatural. Writing stories, writing metas, creating the odd graphic, reblogging other people’s posts and ooohing and aaaawing at their creations and insight - that was great, but it also cut my mental landscape into a tiny little postcard. And this past week - I did things. I discovered new stuff, I read real books, I faffed around weird Wikipedia pages, I lost myself in other series, I planted beans and basil and edible flowers. And I liked it - a lot. So whatever I do next, I’ll be on tumblr a lot less, because - I’m sorry - I’ve been fearing for a while that Supernatural simply wasn’t worth this level of devotion, and this finale pretty much confirmed that. So - really - I’ll keep reblogging gifs and I’ll probably write the occasional headcanon and feel free to ask me things and come talk to me and everything else, but please know that I’m not that positive about this show anymore, so if you want rainbows and ponies, my blog’s probably not the best place to get them. I’ll definitely keep writing, and I hope I’ve got enough love left in me to finish my DCBB, but other than that - I think I’m done. It’s likely I’ll watch the show next year, but I’ll certainly not anticipate new episodes and squeal at the screen and bleed my own blood all over it or anything. And maybe this will hurt at some point - God, I loved this show so goddamn much - but for now I’m just numb. 

So, here goes - quite possibly, my last meta. 


Cas: Yes, They Went There

This is what we’re all wondering, isn’t it? Is Cas really dead? 

No, he isn’t. If Misha was leaving the show, we’d know about it. Like, of course they’d keep it under wraps until the last episode, but it’d be out today - no reason it wouldn’t. Plus, from a narrative point of view, Cas’ death doesn’t make any sense. He just died after fucking up - again - and he never got to make his Big Choice between Heaven and *coughs* humanity, plus they’re having so much fun jerking us around with that yeah so maybe he and Dean they’re in love thing, why would they stop now? So, honestly, his ‘death’ was his only good moment during this season finale. Like, he obviously wasn’t brainwashed brainwashed, so it didn’t make any sense he wouldn’t involve Sam and Dean in his overly simplistic scheme, plus he’s been acting stupid and out of character the whole time he was on screen - and, I get Cas is hard to write, but come on. Renting a cabin under the name James Novak when he can hypnotize it out of some guy without leaving a paper trace? Reading books and taking online classes about childbirth? This from a guy who’s not a guy at all and has instinctive knowledge of physics and whatever and knows perfectly well that thing inside Kelly isn’t a human child, anyway, so he might as well take woodworking classes for all the good that would do him? Uh. Not to mention his random snooping into alternate dimensions he knew nothing about when he was supposed to be taking care of Kelly - if AU!Bobby had killed him, or if he’d fallen into a pit or whatever else, Kelly would have remained alone in that cabin basically waiting for Lucifer to find her. Honestly - why do they bother writing Cas at all if they can’t get him right?

Destiel: Still Subtext

And more bad news: five seasons of queerbaiting - and counting. This season finale had to be the one with the least amount of UST or pining or any kind of fuckery between them since, I don’t know, ever? Sure, there were moments, and I could list them, but why should I? Look at Cas doing his own thing, and what does it matter if he was staring at the water (possibly thinking about that fish which started everything, and by everything I mean Cas’ love for humanity, and by humanity I mean Dean), and what does it matter if Dean, as usual, is the one fretting about Cas and worrying about Cas and being all undignified and unmanly? It’s been years, and Dean was unusually chatty during the whole finale, so I’m sure some of us were like, ALERT ALERT THIS IS WHEN IT HAPPENS (not me, because I’m grumpy and disillusioned), and nope, not the time. Better luck next season, guys.

Honestly, at this point there are no good options. 

Keep reading

Just wanted to write this out

And get it out of my head.

To which Sans has a panther or (snow) tiger tail and ears, becomes bigger than Red who he becomes attached to and becomes his current owner.

Hmmm … phrased it wrong?

Ok, to which Red took Sans who is a snow tiger cub as his pet. The tiger grows to be bigger than him in a couple of years (roughly 4 where Sans stops growing) and Sans becomes very attached and overprotective of his owner.

——
Part 1 - New Owner

He had been sold and brought back to the pet store time and time again.

Complaints of him being a destructive force or how he refused to obey orders. The tiger scoffed and didn’t care to hear the scolding he got after each return.

He didn’t like his owner. Simple as that. But of course, freedom wasn’t a choice. He was trapped here.

“Hey, you freak,” the skeleton tiger cub glared at him as he opened his cage. “Someone is interested in buying you again. And don’t look at me like that brat. I already warned him what a pain you’d be.”

The tiger growled lowly but followed the caretaker regardless. ‘Great. Another one.’

Just because he was rare, doesn’t make him a plaything for entertainment.

They reached the room where transactions occurred and the cub’s eye sockets widened. It was a skeleton monster like him, minus the ears and tail of course. And red eye lights met his blank ones.

“This is him.” The tiger growled and glared at the caretaker when he was nudged forward. Stars what he’d do to scratch the monster’s face. “Are you still sure you want him? He has quite the record for being troublesome.”

“Nah. He’s perfect.” The cub looked to the skeleton monster.

“Perfect? Pffft. Whatever you say. That’ll be 500 gold.”

The tiger gritted his teeth and was practically baring his fangs. That wasn’t his normal price. He was usually sold for 100; especially with having such a problematic record. Of course no one would pay that much for hi—

“All right.”

The skeleton cub whipped his head up to his buyer. ‘What?! Is he insane?’

“Woah, really?” Even the caretaker couldn’t believe it.

“There a problem?”

“O-Oh, uh, no. Not at all. Well, I mean, you’re willing to pay that much? For him?”

For once, even the skeleton tiger had to agree. He really wasn’t worth it.

“Again, you have a fucking problem with it?” The caretaker got to work, not wanting to irritate his customer further. And the transaction went without a cinch.

The cub was still processing what just happened. He was taken out of his stupor when his new owner crouched down to his level and waved a hand in front of him.

“Hey, you okay?” The same hand was moving forward to touch his head. The tiger flinched at the movement; however, and his owner stopped and pulled his hand away. “Right. Sorry ‘bout that.”

The tiger felt confused when the latter stood up and shot him a grin. “Wanna go and leave this dump already? My place ain’t that big, but it’s better than this.”

The cub found himself kind of liking this one. He was … different. Still, it was too early to judge. The little one followed his new owner with caution.

Who knows what he’s up against.
——

Part 2 - New Name

The house he was going to be living in was … pretty nice. Kind of cozy … and homey.

“Oh right, I need to name you?”

The cub grimaced. 'If it’s precious, or cutiepie, or snowy, or something dumb, I’m going to become your worst nightmare.’

“I’m not really fucking good with names … Hmm …” His owner seemed to be thinking pretty hard on one. And red eye lights looked right at him. “What about Sans?”

’… Without?’

“Pretty cool, right? Sans. Without. Without what? Who the fuck knows.” His owner smirked. “Adds a little bit of mystery right?”

It was certainly better than the previous names he’d gotten. So he supposed it wasn’t bad.

“D-Do you like it? Do you want a different one?” His owner now looked unsure, but the cub was more than surprised to be given a choice in the matter.

Still, he nodded that it was fine. He liked the name enough.

The uncertainty was still evident on his owner’s face. This certainly felt like he was seeing a new side to the monster from what he’d shown at the store. “Shit. I should’ve just asked this. Did you wanted to be called by something? You can name yourself if you want.”

’… I … can?’

His owner grabbed a piece of paper and pencil and went towards him. “You can read and write, right?”

The tiger nodded and was handed said materials.

“Feel free to write whatever name you want down, and I’ll start calling you that.”

His owner was really … different.

“Oh, right. I’m Red by the way. I know, lame, right? Who names their kid a colour?”

The phone rang at that precise moment, and Red went to answer it. Leaving the cub to think about a name for himself.

Several minutes passed before Red came back into the room he left the tiger in. “Thought of one yet?”

The latter nodded and walked to give him the paper.

When the skeleton took it, eye sockets widened in surprise. In big bold letters, it spelled: 'SANS’.

The bright smile he got from Red made Sans feel weird … and happy. He kind of liked seeing that smile.

“It’s a bit late but, welcome to your new home, Sans.”

And for the first time in a long while, Sans smiled.

'Home, huh.’

—–
There’s going to be part 3 and 4 but i got tired. Orz

Will post them when i get the energy. _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

anonymous asked:

Mmmmm my friend. My pal. My dude if I may be so bold. Please hook me up with some sweet, sweet novahd, I love the way you write them my guy. Fake Chop? Even better. But seriously some fresh boys in dumb love trying to take on the world together? Be it on YouTube or in the crime ring, I'd love seeing some more of your stuff. Also I love you even if you don't want to write any more. Okay kisses, bye. <3

Anon, you are the best (and sweetest) person ever, and for that, I give you this. Please excuse the spelling errors, It’s 5AM here and I’m tired as shit (I will look through this after some sleep), but I wanted to post this before going to bed. I hope you enjoy this and tired me thank you for your kind words.


From the beginning, since the first moment he met the smug bastard, Aleks knew he’d follow James anywhere. It hadn’t been a conscious decision on his part. He didn’t look at the guy and think, yes, this dude, he’s that missing piece of me I’ve been looking for; nothing quite like that, but he had this feeling in his gut that told him, no matter what went down, no matter how much they argued or disagreed, he’d always be one step behind James.


It’s James’ idea to start a crew. A fuck you to every other crew in Los Santos; a way to show that they could become something more than a two-bit assassin and a self-proclaimed thief.

Aleks has his doubts. He’s never been a part of a crew, and the last crew James had been with ended up leaving him bleeding out in a gutter. What if they screwed up? What if they ended up dead? What if they couldn’t find anyone to join their crew? What if they did and these people ended up betraying them? What if? What if? Question after question that kept him up at night and left his stomach in knots.

James, however, is determined, and Aleks can’t deny that he likes the idea of having his own crew once he pushes past the anxiety. He likes knowing that, if he can’t be there with James, he’d at least have someone there watching his back, even if he insisted he didn’t need the backup. He’s stubborn and reckless and unpredictable, and Aleks knows he’ll sleep better at night knowing the idiot will actually make it home in one piece.

Plus the grin James gives him when he agrees is an added bonus, but no one askes and he doesn’t tell.


Before James, Aleks had spent most of his time stealing shit for people. Paintings, jewels, money, cars; anything and everything as long as they paid up after the job. From a young age, he’d been really good at getting in and out of places without being seen; a living ghost.

He’d learned to pick pockets early in life, taught himself how to pick a lock, spent hours in internet cafes trying to figure out how to hotwire a car. He hadn’t meant to become a thief, he’d been more curious about the process than actually doing the act, but he figured why waste his talents? Every crime boss needed a good thief, and if he could make himself the best he’d always have a job.

He’d met James when his crew hired him to steal some documents from some high-security mansion. Aleks’ job had been to infiltrate the place, find the documents, and bring them back before anyone discovered he’d been inside the place. They gave him an hour; he’d done it in thirty minutes. The easiest fifty grand he’d ever made.

He hadn’t been planning on sticking around after the job, never really had before so why start now, but someone handed him a beer and another and another and soon he was pleasantly buzzed, sitting on a couch, listening to the radio playing some stupid pop song he had heard a hundred times.

Someone plopped down next to him, took his beer from him, and said, “Thank you.”

“Hey!” Aleks turned to the guy, reaching out to take his beer, but the guy held it out of his reach. “Give it back.”

“Nope.” The guy took a drink, draining the last dregs, and set the bottle on the rickety coffee table. “Want another?”

“What?”

“Do you want another beer?” The guy jumped up, nodding towards the kitchen. He held out his hand, wriggling his fingers, waiting for Aleks to take it. “Come on, before there isn’t anymore.

Aleks sat there for a few seconds before sighing and grabbing the guy’s hand, letting him drag him to his feet. He offered him a smug smile, shook his hand, and said, “James.”

“More like Jackass.”

James snorted, dropping Aleks’ hand, and headed towards the kitchen. Aleks waited a few seconds before following him.


Their first job as a crew goes terribly. They’re not the best at planning, and the new dude, Trevor, is so green he’s probably never stolen anything before in his life, but he had been cheap and they aren’t exactly rolling in the dough right now.

Aleks takes a bullet to the shoulder, James ends up with a concussion, and Trevor gets lost trying to drive them back to the safehouse, but they’re alive. A little worse for wear but breathing.

When they eventually make it back to the safehouse, Aleks is woozy and James is moody and Trevor is frantically running back and forth between the two, trying to tend to their wounds, but he’s shaking so bad it’s any wonder he’s still standing.

Irritated and most likely on the verge of shooting Trevor, James fumbles with his cell, scrolling through what little contacts he has, putting it to his ear when he finds the right number.

“Brett,” he says into the phone. “Aleks is shot and this idiot-” he throws a dark look at Trevor who shrinks back, “-is about as useful as wet toilet paper.” James hums, listening to whatever Brett is telling him, and hangs up a moment later. “He’s on his way.”

“How does he know…?” Trevor starts, but James throws another dark look his way and his words falter.

“He’s on his way,” he repeats and Aleks nods, pressing harder on his shoulder wound, feeling a little bad for Trevor.

Just a little.


James’ crew betrayed him on a Thursday. It’d been an uneventful day on Aleks’ end. He’d mostly spent it with his cat and dog, watching stupid shit on TV, wishing someone would call for a job. He’d been willing to do anything, even a simple breaking and entering. Anything to appease the boredom that had settled around him; anything to escape daytime television.

When his phone rang, he practically pounced on it. Finally, somebody was putting him out of his misery. He answered the call without looking at the screen, happy just to be getting a job, only to nearly drop his phone when a soft voice said, “A-Aleks? A-Aleks, help me.”

“James?” Aleks stood up without really thinking about it, already looking for his keys. “Where are you? What happened?”

“H-help…” the line went quiet and for a moment Aleks actually thought James had hung up, but he heard his rattling breathing followed by a barely audible street name, and Aleks rushed out of his apartment.

He found James lying in a gutter, bloody and bruised and barely breathing, and his heart nearly stopped. Since the job he’d pulled for James’ crew, he and Aleks had hung out on and off, they were friends, and to see one of his friends like this had his blood boiling.

James had been hard to move, more deadweight than anything, but Aleks managed it and drove him to the nearest hospital.

The doctors had been surprised when James pulled through, but Aleks knew, deep in his gut, that he’d survived out of spite. He also hadn’t left his side the entire time, telling the hospital staff he was his brother so he didn’t have to leave.

When James finally woke up, he met Aleks’ eyes and hoarsely asked, “You here to betray me, too?”

“Wasn’t planning on it. Why?”

When James told him what happened, how his crew betrayed him, his voice had been void of any emotions, and afterward, when he told Aleks he was going to get his revenge, Aleks knew right then and there he was going to help however he could; no matter what it took.


Joe’s an old friend from James’ childhood. Aleks mistakes him for the sweet, innocent type until he sneaks up behind a guy and easily slits his throat. He’s never doing that again.

When James brings up the idea of letting Joe join their crew, Aleks has no problem with it. When he sees how buddy-buddy they are, however, he can’t deny the small bout of jealousy that settles in his gut.

He ignores it as best as he can, mostly because acting like a jilted lover is the last thing he wants to do, but one day, before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “Were you and Joe ever a thing?”

“What?” James’ head snaps up so quickly Aleks winces when he hears his neck pop. “Ow! Fuck!”

“Shit, dude. You okay?”

“No! Goddamn that hurt!”

“Lemme get you some ice.” He heads towards the freezer, digging around for the ice cube tray, closing the door, only to jerk back when he finds James standing directly behind it, dropping the tray.

“Fuck,” he mutters, stooping down to collect the ice scattered across the floor.

“Why’d you wanna know if Joe and I were a thing?”

“I don’t,” Aleks answers quickly, face red, eyes downcast. He picks up all the ice, pushing himself to his feet, and hurries towards the sink. “Forget I asked.”

“You thinking about fucking him?”

“What?” Aleks whirls around, nearly missing the flicker of anger that flashes in James’ eyes. “God, no! Why? Jealous?”

“Fuck off.” James stalks away and they don’t talk the rest of the day.


They had met Brett by accident. James wanted to try his hand at assassinations, something he figured would help fund his revenge plan on his old crew, but Aleks didn’t have any contacts that could help him. They poked around for a while, trying to find someone willing to take pity on a loud, abrasive man with a short fuse and a modest body count.

They found some small crew willing to pay if James had been willing to kill one of their enemies. He agreed, mostly because he got to kill someone, and they handed over a file.

He managed to take out the target, but he’d gotten caught leaving the building. Socked in the face, tossed into a trunk, and driven back to some warehouse. He didn’t exactly tell Aleks what went down, but he when he returned he’d brought Brett with him.

“What’s he doing here?” Aleks had hissed while Brett wandered around their apartment.

“He’s a fence,” James answered, watching Brett uncertainly. “Or so he says.”

“You really shouldn’t conduct business where you live,” Brett called from the kitchen. “Cops ever tracked you down, they’d have enough evidence to put your asses away for life.”

“What are you, our dad?”

“No,” Brett replies, returning to the living room, holding a mug of whiskey, “I’m your new business partner.”


Aleks doesn’t mean to fall off the ladder. One minute they’re escaping the cops, the next his foot slips on the rung and he’s falling to the ground. He blacks out the moment he hits the concrete, coming to a few seconds later to James trying to haul his ass off the ground.

“Come on,” he shouts, and Aleks is too dazed to fight him, allowing him to drag him to his feet. Everything tilts and he’s pretty sure he’s going to throw up, but he puts one foot in front of the other as both stumble out of the alleyway.

“Stupid, useless, fucking plan,” James complains, panting with the effort of keeping Aleks upright and them both moving. “Told you…. the fire escape…. was the worst idea.”

“‘m not the one ‘fraid of heights,” Aleks murmurs, fighting to keep his eyes open. “Chicken shit.”

“Fuck… you…”

Aleks loses time.

When he’s conscious again, he finds himself lying on a scratchy couch, a leather jacket draped over his shoulders. He hears someone talking quietly, but he can’t make out the words. He listens for another few minutes before losing more time.

The next time he wakes up, he’s more coherent, and he can hear snoring coming from somewhere near his feet. He sits up, grabbing for the couch’s arm when the room tilts, and murmurs, “Shit.”

“What?” the snores cut off and Aleks feels the couch jolt. “Aleks? You awake?”

“Uh…”

A light snaps on and he shields his eyes from the sudden glow, holding his head in his free hand. He winces when someone gently probes his skull with their fingers, squeezing his eyes shut, breathing deeply through the pain.

“You know I can’t do stitches worth shit,” James says softly, moving his hand from Aleks’ head and resting it against his neck. “Probably should have risked getting Brett’s contact here, but we didn’t have time.”

“Did I fall off a ladder?” Aleks asks softly, shivering when James’ thumb brushes his pulse point.

“Yes, dumbass.”

“And you came back for me.” It’s the worst moment to tease James, he knows it, but he can’t help it.

“Fuck off,” James replies but with zero heat behind the words.

“Sap.”

“Asshole.”


James set his old crew’s hideout on fire six months to the day of their betrayal. He dragged Aleks out of bed, handed him a ridiculous mask, and they left Brett passed out on their couch.

It wasn’t a long drive, but for Aleks, it felt like it took forever. When they pulled up to the old apartment complex, less inviting than the last time he’d been there, James got out of the car.

He ducked down, looking into the open doorway, and said, “You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to.”

“Fuck off.” Aleks got out of the car, trailing after James, looking up at the place. There was no one inside, James had made sure of it. He’d told Aleks he wanted his old crew to pay, but he didn’t want them dead, and Aleks could respect that decision. They’d been a big part of his life, a second family to him; old feelings didn’t die overnight.

It doesn’t take long for the place to go up in flames. It’s old and probably not up to safety code. They stood there for a few moments, watching the fire before sirens broke them from their reverie.

“Let’s go.” James grabbed his hand, dragging him towards the car.

Once behind the wheel, James started the car and sped off in the opposite direction of the sirens. He drove for a good ten minutes before pulling over onto the side of the road.

Neither one said a word for a long moment, but Aleks finally sighed and said, “You okay?”

“Not sure.”

“It’s not every day you burn down your ex-crew’s hideout.”

“Nope.”

“I’m sure, you know, in time, you’ll come to…”

“Aleksandr.”

“What?”

“Shut up.”


They’re not an established crew, not by a long shot, but Aleks figures they have time. They’ll find their niche, find some allies, make some more enemies, but until then they’ll just have to keep moving forward and hope for the best.

And if moving forward meant walking straight into hell. Well, he’s been worst places.

anonymous asked:

jackcrutchie prompt: something along the lines of "you confessed your love to me while drunk but you dont remember doing that" idk

I played a little and rambled a little and got carried away but I hope this is okay?? Sorry I can’t write.

Crutchie is sick so he goes to the penthouse early but is then surprised by how insanely drunk Jack is when he comes home later that night.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Could you please write a oneshot with haru running a fever (burning up, chills, headaches, etc) and makoto taking care of him?

Makoto startled awake, blinking blearily against the light of the desk lamp.

He wiped at the drool that had accumulated beneath his cheek, subsequently gluing his history notes to his face. He peeled the paper off with a grimace and rubbed the residual sleep from his eyes.

He must’ve konked out while they’d been studying.

Makoto glanced over his shoulder, expecting to find his friend asleep on the floor, blanketed by a pile textbooks. But the room was empty. Strange.

“Haru?”

Makoto rolled his shoulders, pushing up from the desk he’d been slumped over. As far as he could tell, the house was dead silent.

“Hey, Haru?” Light illuminated the hallway leading to the bathroom. The door was ajar but it was dark inside; even so, Makoto knocked softly. Receiving no response, he stepped inside and flicked on the light. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of his best friend sitting in the bathtub.

“What in the world are you doing? It’s two in the morning.”

He’d spoken quietly, voice still hopelessly clogged with sleep, but he’d expected some sort of reaction. Haruka didn’t move. His head remained bowed to his chest and his shoulders drooped, hands resting limply between his thighs in the water.

He was swaying gently, steam curling in ghostly tendrils around his naked torso. As he approached, Makoto noticed that his eyes were closed, lips parted slightly as his chest rose and fell in a deep, congested sounding rhythm. Makoto frowned as he sat down on the closed toilet seat; was Haruka…asleep?

As he reached out to touch his friend’s shoulder, he noticed that Haruka was trembling; little shudders running in intervals down the length of his spine, causing his muscles to momentarily seize up as he rode out the wave.

Makoto rested his hand on the other boy’s shoulder, surprised at the heat he felt radiating from his friend’s bare skin.

“Haru,” he urged softly, “wake up.”

Haruka inhaled a slow, shaky breath. His eyelids fluttered, blinking dazedly as he lifted his head. Dull confusion was evident on his face as he stared at his hands floating in the cooling water. Makoto watched his throat bob with a thick swallow as another shudder traveled through his body.

“Haru,” Makoto repeated. “What are you doing in here?”

Any other time of the day, Makoto could, (sort of), understand. But the middle of the night? That was cause for concern.

Haruka swallowed again, tongue clicking multiple times, as though getting his mouth to work was a monumental task.

“I…was cold.” His voice was a nearly inaudible rasp of labored breath.

“Okay,” Makoto nodded, still trying to understand. “But don’t you think you’d be warmer in bed?”

“I dunno,” Haruka shook his head, water droplets propelling off the ends of his hair as his upper body wilted. “‘M just…r-really cold.”

Makoto knelt down at the edge of the tub, reaching out to place a palm against his friend’s forehead. Haruka let out a little gasp before his eyes fluttered, practically melting into the touch.

“Ahh, geez, Haru,” Makoto cringed as his hand made contact, using his thumb to brush away damp bangs. “You’re really sick.”

Haruka’s only response was a small whine as Makoto pulled his hand away. He swayed precariously, jolting upright just before his forehead collided against the faucet.

“Whoa, okay,” Makoto quickly gripped his shoulders as he reached for a towel. “How ‘bout we get you back to bed, huh?”

“Can’t,” Haruka whispered, a pained expression creasing his brow.

“Why not?” Makoto asked gently, rubbing a steadying hand between his friend’s shoulder blades.

“Diz’…so dizzy,” Haruka swallowed again, panting softly as he lowered his forehead to rest against the edge of the tub. “Can’t m-move…right now.”

“I’m gonna help you, all right? Here, come on,” Makoto eased his grip underneath Haruka’s arms, carefully urging him upright.

Haruka moaned, squeezing his eyes shut as the scenery spun around him. He wrapped his arms clumsily around Makoto’s neck, nose bumping against the older boy’s collarbone as Makoto picked him up out of the water.

He couldn’t help smiling when he noticed Haru’s swim suit. If there was one thing that could be said for Haruka Nanese, it was his aptitude for consistency.

Makoto settled the other boy down on the toilet seat, wrapping him up in the towel and using a separate one to dry his hair.

“C-cold,” Haruka chattered, shivering violently even within the confines of the fluffy towel. He jerked forward with a few harsh coughs. They were deep and congested, rattling low in his chest; he was struggling to inhale without choking.

“I know,” Makoto frowned, rubbing up and down Haruka’s arms in an attempt to warm him up. “I’m sorry. I know you are.”

Haruka slumped forward until his head was resting against Makoto’s shoulder, hot breath caressing over Makoto’s skin as he panted through the waves of vertigo.

“Don’t feel good,” Haru keened, pressing his forehead hard against Makoto’s neck in an attempt to stabilize his tilting world. Another congested cough wracked his frame, eliciting a miserable groan.

“I know,” Makoto repeated, rubbing a slow arc over his friend’s back. “Listen, you need to get some sleep. Maybe drink some water.”

“Wanna…wanna get back in t-the water,” Haruka slurred, throat working with another thick swallow. “’S warm. Please.”

He didn’t stop murmuring into Makoto’s shoulder about the water as the older boy helped him change and carried him back to bed. Makoto settled Haruka under the covers before switching on the lamp.

Haruka immediately winced away from the light, whimpering as he curled into himself.

“Sorry,” Makoto apologized, reaching for Haruka’s half-empty water bottle. “Does your head hurt?”

Haru made a noncommittal noise in his throat before muttering something else about the water.

“It’s not gonna dry up,” Makoto assured his delirious friend, petting his hair. “It’ll be here when you wake up. Promise.”

Haruka’s face scrunched up as he glared at Makoto with glassy, disbelieving eyes. He made a tiny, distressed noise, woozily trying to push up on his elbows.

Shh, relax,” Makoto soothed, cupping his hand around the back of Haruka’s neck to settle him down. “It’s all right, Haru. You’re gonna be all right.”

Haruka fell back against the pillows, breaths growing slower as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

It was only a few minutes later when Makoto felt him kick restlessly at the blankets. “Hey, what’s the matter?” he asked gently, rubbing his thumb in circles over Haruka’s fever flushed cheek.

“’S too hot,” Haru mumbled, squirming uncomfortably.

Makoto sighed as he peeled back the layers of blankets cocooning the sick boy. It was going to be a long night.

Imagine Joji// Meeting Joji through Ian and Max For anon <3

“Hi, I’m george, uh you can call me Joji though” he says, reaching his hand out, you shake it lightly with a smile.

“nice to meet you” you say, Ian and Max are in the kitchen when you walk in, and Joji is the first person you see, you’re a bit nervous to introduce yourself all alone.

“Oh hey you’re here, great” Max says, grabbing the movie on the counter, you’re a bit late for the movie but you know they won’t mind that much. You don’t ever seem to get through the movie without laughing too much at Max’s commentary, or throwing shit at Ian for ruining the plot with his excessive knowledge of random facts.

“Hey, yea sorry, there was a bit of traffic” you say, Max rolls his eyes.

“Yea, i think the freeway here might be just as bad as the bumper to bumper shit in new york” joji says, you nod.

“Thats right, you live in New York, Max told me. Why does New York always sound like some glamourous city?” you ask, not really asking him, just asking aloud mostly to yourself.

Keep reading

Da Fuq You Mean Chicken Tenders Have Gluten?

So I went to the doctor today ‘cause mah stomach has been acting out on me. No amount of chastising and threatening has kept it in line, so I had to resort to going to a legit doctor. So I got there, and I’m sitting in the waiting room surrounded by a bunch of old people who probably ‘bout to die, and I’m praying. K? I’m praying to mah boy Jesus that he keeps these people alive up in here. Not ‘cause I legit give 2 shits (I don’t ima bad person), but because I cannot deal with them dying all in front of me. That shit seems emotionally traumatizing. Plus, I was gon’ get this delicious ass bucket of chicken from KFC after I got outta there, and I figured them dyin’ might fuck with my appetite a little bit.

So I’m waiting there for a little while, internally threatenin’ my stomach with an ass whoopin’ and praying to Jesus to keep these people alive for a few more minutes. Finally, they called me up. Used me full name and everything like we were friends or like they were one of my great aunts that randomly shows up at my house and pinches my damn cheeks with the strength of a python. But I don’t flip. I’m just chill. I walk over to ‘em, go into the lil’ room, get my ass checked up real quick. 

I praise the Jesus when they measure my weight ‘cause I finally hit my damn goal and I was like, “damn. ‘bout to have 2 buckets of chicken now. done lost all the weight I needed.” Then they take me into this doctor’s office. Everything is white as shit, okay? Like, if you look at me too fast I blend in. Back, forth, back forth. There, gone, there, gone. It’s like a free fucking magic show except no one is gonna pay money to see a lil’ white girl disappear for a second, so it’s not even that cool. 

Finally, the doctor walks in after me waiting for 30 mins in a damn thin ass piece o’ paper they made me put on. I don’t even think I fucking needed it. I’m pretty sure the nurse just wanted me to wear it, but it’s cool ‘cause it made my ass look good and the nurse was hot as shit.

But the point is, the doctor walks in, and I tell him my damn symptoms in all their glory. He gives me a look like “that’s way more than I needed to know,” sometimes, but if this doctor is getting paid to fix me, he’s gotta know all the shit he’s gotta fix, right? right. So anyway. He scribbles shit down randomly as I’m talking, and I’m pretty sure he’s either doodling what my nipples look like hard, or he’s writing that I have cancer. His handwriting is that bad, I couldn’t even tell. But I don’t even give a fuck, so I stop paying attention eventually and just keep giving him my symptoms and shit.  Eventually he’s like “oh. you may have a gluten intolerance,” with this prissy ass voice of his, and I’m shooting him daggers.

BITCH DA FUCK U MEAN GLUTEN INTOLERANCE. GET THAT NASTINESS AWAY FROM ME.

He’s just like, “yeah gluten intolerance. stay away from gluten”

motherfucker, i’m made of gluten. i’m 9.2871 x 10^2 percent gluten. u cannot tell me i can’t eat gluten.

but this bitch is dead set on giving me a damn gluten intolerance. I’m ‘bout ready to smack this boy. I am! (not really I’m actually a total wuss wtf)

He sees I’m pissed, and he’s like “don’t worry we’ll run some tests and see what comes back. just stay off gluten for a few days until we get results.”

So I’m still fuming. I’m over here fucking cursing his future grandchildren out in spanish in my damn cabeza. I’m here planning out the lil’ hex bag ima make for him. I’m here mentally buying myself some damn tap shoes so I can practice dancing on his grave. 

But I agree. ‘cause I’m trash. I tell him I won’t eat any gluten.

Like, “it’s okay. it’s not the end of the world. at least I can have chicken tenders”

and he blinks. the bitch blinks and stares at me like he saw a ghost. Which I think he’s doing ‘cause he looked too fast at me and I disappeared for a second like I was talking about earlier. But no. It’s much worse. This motherfucker ain’t about to call ghostbusters on my ass. 

This motherfucker tells me that chicken tenders have gluten.

AND I START LAUGHING MY ASS OFF. LIKE THIS BITCH. THIS BITCH IS FUCKING WITH ME.

But the asshole ain’t laughing. So i stop laughing.

like “the fuck you mean chicken tenders have gluten. you telling me I can’t have chicken tenders. are you fucking telling me that.”

and this boy is just like, “yeah…” all shaky and shit ‘cause I probably look like ima ‘bout to try and murder him, and he’s blessing himself ‘cause at least he’s in a damn hospital.

But I refrained from murdering him. I refrained from yelling. I was as calm as I could possibly be. I walked out of there thanking him. I held the door open for all the old people. I told the ladies at the front desk to have a good day. I let fast cars pass me without flipping them off. I let the little kids run across quickly before I turned into KFC. I gave my mom one of my chicken tenders, and chewed completely before speaking.

“So they said nothing was wrong with me.”

chrissy22787  asked:

I was just watching the episode of 'Friends' where Joey finds Rachel's dirty book under her pillow. Would you write a Niall blurb like that? Funny AND smutty?! I trust you lol! ❌⭕️

When I walked into my house one evening to see Niall standing in the kitchen with a shit eating grin on his face, I knew something was up.  He’d been texting me odd things all day about fantasizing and something about edging but I was so busy at work I didn’t have a chance to really think about what he meant.  It was clear I was going to get that explanation now.

He lifted a mug of tea to his lips and took a sip,

“How was work?”

I narrowed my eyes at him,

“Fine.”

“Busy?”

I peeled my jacket off as I set my bag and keys on the counter,

“Yes, actually.”

He nodded, his face set in a tight line that sure made it seem like he was trying to hide a smile,

“Fixed the computer.”

I went to grab a bottle of water out of the refrigerator, I was suspicious because Niall was usually never this evasive,

“Good, what was wrong with it?”

He shrugged,

“Can’t be sure but…probably has somethin’ t’do with whatcha been lookin’ at.”

Keep reading

All or Nothing

Hello My Lovelies,

For ease of access please find below links to all my previous stories.
Masterlist

Regards,
Bec
Xxx
                                                     Request
                                              
All or Nothing

pretty-next-door said to 5minutefanfiction:

Request: The reader is into weddings and such; and her and Dean are getting married. She wants it small with close family & friends. Somehow, she finds out about Sam & Dean’s brother still being in the cage with Lucifer and demands the three of them work towards rescuing him & is super angry they never tried

Authors Note:

WORD COUNT: 1600

Dean watched as the sunlight caught the diamond on Y/N’s engagement ring. Nothing looked as good as that ring on her finger. He smiled lovingly at his fiancée, as she flipped through items on whatever website she was on. Dean watched as she lay on the blanket in the sun outside the bunker. He hovered over the top of her, kissing her shoulders, arms, neck.

‘Does that mean you finally finished your guest list?’ she laughed, as Dean worked hard at trying to distract her from whatever it she was doing.

‘Sure.’

‘Liar.’

‘In my head I know who I’m inviting.’

Y/N rolled over and smiled at him, he watched as her eyes sparkled just like the ring. As her hair fanned out slightly around her.

‘I can’t send invites if I don’t know,’ she smirked.

‘There’s that,’ he grinned. ‘I’ll text them the details.’

He watched as her jaw dropped, Dean’s smile grew bigger and he moved in to kiss her collarbone.

‘I’ll give you a list so you can send them a real invite,’ he offered.

He felt her hands move around his body, pulling him in closer.

‘Yes, you will,’ she murmured, kissing him back.

‘Who would have taken you for an actual wedding person? I figured Vegas was more your style.’

Y/N laughed, ‘Yeah, well I only plan on doing this once. And it’s not like we get the chance to do much celebrating of anything.’

‘True.’

‘And I am loving the idea of a honeymoon.’

‘One that involves no clothing right?’ Dean asked, his hands wandering her body.

‘As long as there’s no hunting.’

‘We’re taking your car aren’t we?’ he sulked.

While Y/N was a hunter, once they joined forces a few years back. They had shifted her weapons into Baby, leaving next to nothing in her Prius. Now that was there non hunting vehicle. Not that they ever really used it.

‘Want me to show you why it won’t matter what car we bring?’ Y/N asked cheekily, and yet seductively.

‘Oh Sweetheart, I’m all for show and tell.’

Dean kissed her again, melting into her. Nothing came close to describing the pure ecstasy he felt when he was with her. The way she made him feel, the goose bumps that covered his skin, the way her moans could finish him, was all new. It took everything to new heights. Dean even tested her for everything he could think of just to make sure she was human and real. He laughed silently of the memory, her raised eyebrow but amused smirk as he stopped to make sure she wasn’t a siren, or a witch. The lustful way he took her afterwards, the eagerness that filled him because she was human.

Her kisses tasted like cherries. Dean grinned. She had found the dish of them he had got her earlier. The couple of kilo’s worth he had got her. If she had eaten them, it meant one thing. His girl had also made pie. His heart swelled some more, as they finished and lay tangled up together.

‘Ok,’ Dean sighed. ‘I can get over using your car. But you’re doing that again.’

Dean came into the viewing room later that night and found Sam and Y/N in a dispute over something, he smiled watching the friendly banter.

‘Here,’ he grinned as the teasing calmed down.

Y/N unfolded the piece of paper in front of her and looked at Dean’s writing. He had written out his guest list for the wedding.

‘Dean, I’m not sure I can make it,’ she pouted. ‘I already have plans that day.’

Dean grinned at her. ‘Fine, how bout we both skip out on the party and do something stupid.’

‘Like?’

‘Get married or something equally dumb.’

Y/N snorted, ‘Meh, why not. I mean it can’t possibly be worse than hell right?’

Dean grinned.

‘I’m on your guest list how many times?’

‘I really want to make sure your there.’

‘Kinda pointless without me, Babe.’

Dean chuckled and kissed her softly.

‘This is it? I know we wanted it small, but if you take out the one, two, three…’ Y/N move through the list counting how many times Dean added her. ’19 times I’m invited, Sam, Samuel, Sammy, my Brother and Baby. I can’t believe you invited your car,’ she laughed. ‘You’ve got Charlie, Bobby and Cas.’

‘Yup that’s it.’

‘There’s no cousins, nothing?’

‘Sorry Sweetheart.’

‘You don’t need to apologise Dean,’ she sighed.

‘I’ve got you, I don’t need anything else.’

‘Thanks Dean,’ Sam chuckled.
Y/N got up and kissed  Dean before heading off to find her laptop.

‘Baby? Where are you going?’

‘To find the addresses of the other 18 versions of me.’

Dean grinned at her, and crashed on the couch, changing the movie to an old western.

Y/N rang Charlie and ran through Dean’s list with her.

‘So everyone really is dead?’ she asked sadly.

‘Dead or locked up.’

‘They have family in jail?’

‘I wouldn’t call the pit jail, but I guess it is,’ Charlie commented absent mindedly. ‘Are on you World of Warcraft, I need help.’

‘No,’ Y/N sighed, ‘give me a minute.’

She logged in and helped Charlie with her battle.

‘Who’s in the pit?’

‘Adam, it’s in the novel swan song,’ Charlie mumbled.

Y/N finished helping Charlie and downloaded the book and read through it. She walked into the viewing room and turned off Dean’s movie.

‘I was watching that,’ he complained.

‘You’ll live.’

‘What’s wrong? What did I do? What did Sam do?’

‘Adam?’

The two Winchester’s froze.

‘Err, yeah.’

‘You have a brother. Stuck in the cage with Michael and Lucifer. You haven’t rescued him. He’s probably being tortured. And neither of you thought it was a good idea to bring it up.’

‘There’s not much we can do. The choice was Sam’s soul or Adam.’

Y/N’s jaw locked in place, Dean looked at her, unsure of what to say. He knew what family meant to her. She lost her last surviving family member last year to cancer.

‘Have you tried to get him out?’

Neither man said anything. Guilt, shame, sadness washed over them. They didn’t know the kid all that well, but he was family.

‘He shouldn’t be there,’ Y/N said quietly.

She stood up and handed Dean a piece of paper.

‘What’s…’ Dean read over the fancy writing and raised an eyebrow. ‘Adam’s busy right now and can’t come to the wedding.’

‘So free up his schedule.’

‘Kinda hard to do Sweetheart.’

‘So’s a wedding without all family present.’

‘Are you kidding me right now?’ Dean growled.

‘He’s your brother Dean, you can’t leave him there.’

‘Y/N,’ Sam said softly.

‘Until everyone is dead or can make it, the wedding is postponed.’

Dean’s heart sunk so quickly he felt like he was going to throw up. His chest grew tight and he struggled to breath. He tried standing but struggled.

‘You’re calling off the wedding? You’re breaking up with me?’

Tears sprung to his eyes.

‘No, I’m not doing either,’ Y/N said more gently this time. ‘Dean I love you. But we can’t leave him there, and it’s not fair that your lives carry on all happy and wonderful while he’s being tortured. We find a way to get him out, then we get married.’

‘Baby,’ Dean tried.

‘All or nothing at this wedding, Dean.’

‘If we can’t get him out?’

‘I’ll reconsider. But we need to try.’

Dean ran his thumb over the silver engagement ring, the diamonds catching his eye. He looked at his his fiancée, the spark in her eyes had dulled. She was serious. He understood, but he didn’t like it. He didn’t want to wait any longer than he had to for her to become Mrs Y/N Winchester. He pouted and sulked for a bit before sighing.

‘Fine,’ he groaned. ‘I’ve got no issues trying to rescue the kid, but I don’t see why we can’t get married in the meantime.’

‘I want all our family there Dean. It’s not right otherwise.’

Dean watched as the spark faded a little bit more as she fought back the tears.

‘Fine, fine. Sammy start looking, let’s get the kid out the cage.’

Y/N smiled brightly at him.

‘I love you.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Dean grinned, kissing her struggling to not take her to the bedroom as she kissed him back.

‘This had better be over quickly. And that honeymoon had better be naked holidays.’

‘Does that mean I need to return the nurse’s outfit, you mentioned you wanted to see me in? Cos I had no idea, so Charlie hunted everywhere for one. Not that it covers much…’ Y/N’s voice trailed off, as Dean’s gaze darkened with hunger.

‘You may be delaying becoming a Winchester. But you’re not delaying that. Bedroom. Now.’

‘Dean, we need to-.’

‘Now,’ he ordered, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the bedroom.

‘I should make you wait for that too,’ Y/N laughed.

‘Not happening, the weddings bad enough.’

‘The outfit will ensure he’s out inside a week,’ she smirked.

‘Find a different one,’ he challenged, pulling her in and kissing her. ‘Now go change. Then we find Adam. Then you become Mrs Winchester.’

Letters

Anonymous said: Could you do a Dean x reader based on You and I by Michael buble? Just whatever you want plot wise or no plot at all but just about how much Dean loves her? Thanks I really liked mishaps of luck!! It was wonderful!

A/N: Thanks you! I hope you like it, love!

Word count: 1,055

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: mentions of sexual themes or something like that.

Listen to “You and I” here

———————

He didn’t know what made him do it.

He didn’t know why he, Dean Winchester of all people would think of writing a letter—a love letter— when he had never done anything like it before. After all, he wouldn’t even be gone for more than a few days.

There was a case nearby, a ghost haunting at an old hotel of which the manager begged the hunter’s help for. He would be leaving in the morning with Sam, but you, with a broken leg thanks to the most recent hunt, had to stay behind. Needless to say, you were not happy about this. You had argued with him for days, going as far as giving him the silent treatment for the whole day today, but Dean’s mind didn’t even budge. He knew that you didn’t want to stay at home while they were on a hunt, but you needed to take care of yourself, something that you wouldn’t admit by yourself.

The top of the pen dipped and grazed the white sheet of paper in front of Dean, producing an almost-inaudible tap before it was pulled up again, only to be met with the same force that would push it down and make it tap once more. The lights of the library were shinning brightly, keeping the eyes of the tired man at alert as he thought of what to write.

It wasn’t that hard, not really, because if it was up to him there could be a whole book dedicated to just the color of your lips and their shape. There could be various volumes that detailed the way your eyes lit up whenever you talked about something that interested you, your glorious lips parting and letting him hear the melodic, dulcet tones of your voice.

He would swear upon his life that his mouth would be announcing deceiving sins if he didn’t say that an entire library was needed to perfectly describe the ecstasy that you made him feel when your body, flushed and quivering underneath his touch, moved in sync with his. Any thoughts in his mind flew away when your hands threaded through his hair as he explored every part of your naked body, its beauty too great to simply be gazed by him, so he would revere it with his tongue and hands, as it would be the most unholy act to do otherwise.

Dean Winchester was in love, and although he already knew that, there was a certain click inside of him as the pen went down again. You were meant to be together. There was no other explanation for the fact that your bodies fitted so flawlessly with each other; for the fact that falling asleep without having to worry about the nightmares that would plague Dean’s unconscious mind had never been so easy prior to being in your arms; for the fact that with your mere presence, he felt as if he could conquer the world.

And so the pen stopped bobbing up and down, frozen by the sudden inspiration going on in the Winchester’s head. He took his bottom lip between his teeth, his vivid emerald eyes observing the blank page on the wooden table for a few more seconds before flipping the pen in his hand and bringing it to the pearly surface slowly. The dark ink stained the paper immediately, the library instantly being filled with the noise of the pen scratching against the sheet, creating a rough tune with a fast tempo.

The words were written down rapidly, the sentences swiftly occupying the spaces and almost tripping on their race to the end of the page. But they weren’t enough for Dean, they weren’t enough for you, as you deserved much more. However, there would be other times to continue his declaration, because he didn’t care if heaven or hell would allow it, he would be with you for as long as you wanted.

He finally concluded the letter by sealing it with his name, written in cursive for a nice effect. It was folded in half, held between his right index and middle fingers as he walked silently towards the room that you shared. He pushed the door slowly, being careful to shed his upper clothes with making much noise when he had shut it behind him again.

You were sleeping soundlessly, sheets pushed towards your chest, an irregular bump on your right leg, showing where your cast was. Your closed eyelids were brushing against your cheeks, your face deprived of the annoyed frown you had given Dean for the last few days. You were as beautiful as ever, and only made Dean feel worse about the way he had described you. Words were too impure to actually delineate your grace.

He sighed quietly, leaving the paper on top of your nightstand, his eyes resting on your features for a few seconds before he walked to the other side of the bed, sliding in next to you cautiously. You shifted slightly, your hunter reflexes kicking in and alerting you of the unexpected movement.

“Sorry,” Dean whispered, watching your eyes crack open slowly, blinking as you adjusted to the new state of consciousness. “I didn’t meant to wake you.”

“It’s okay,” you yawned, the corners of your lips turning up a little. You adjusted your self so that you could wrap an arm around Dean, your head resting on top of his chest as you snuggled into him. He immediately moved his arm around you too, pressing his lips to the top of your head, something that he had missed while you were sulking about your injury. “Hey, um, ‘bout how I acted lately…”

“It’s okay, babe, I know why you don’t want to stay here,” Dean smiled, holding you just a bit tighter. After all, he wouldn’t be very happy either if he had to sit down on a hunt you were going on.

“It was really childish, though,” you mumbled, another yawn ripping through your mouth. Dean would bet that you at would last at most another minute until you were asleep again. “Hmm…I love you.”

“I love you too, (Y/N).”

The last thought on Dean’s mind was about the letter laying beside you, wondering what you were going to think about it when the morning came.

Anonymous: prompt idea for u. Hasil and Sally Ann have a nap together.

Anonymous: Firstly, I love everything that you’ve written for Sasil. It’s all so lovely! Do you think you could write a scene where Hasil helps Sally-Ann with her hair? Maybe helping her wash it or style it? He seems so fascinated by her hair and I think it would make for a cute ficlet.


The third time she yawned she had tried to hide it, turning her head away, pressing it against her raised shoulder, but he noticed all the same.

The first time had been during their walk up here from the home improvement store; the air was warm and heavy, with almost no breeze, and he had thought it was just a reaction to the change in temperature, as she adjusted to the natural heat of the day after being inside that strange artificial cold for so many hours.

But then, once they had gotten to the house, she yawned again as she stood by the window, waiting for him to follow her inside. She had swiveled away, her hand over her mouth, but he had caught her reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall, seen the exhaustion dimming the light within her eyes. He hadn’t said anything, not wanting to cast a shadow over their afternoon – their only time together in the past five days – but now, after seeing it for the third time, he couldn’t help but voice his concern.

“Sally-Ann, ya ’ll right?”

She gave him a half-smile, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Yeah, sorry,” she said, as she stretched her legs out along the couch, her bare feet pressing against him. “I worked the late shift last night, down at the convenience store, and then I had to open this morning. I didn’ get much sleep.”

Hasil exhaled softly; this had always been one of the hardest things for him to really understand. It seemed so strange to him that people had these jobs that they just went to – two of them, in Sally-Ann’s case – and that you were told when to come and go, and what to do, and in the end, for all that, they gave you a piece of paper with your name on it that was supposedly worth something. But still, it seemed important down here to have a job, to have a thing you could say you did all day, even if it meant you had to spend some your time not really doing much, and then having to think about your job even when you weren’t doing it. Even if it meant that you could be told to work all hours of the day and night, taking you away from the things – and the people – you loved.

And when it came to Sally-Ann, the whole thing only made his heart that much more heavy. She worked so much, gave up so much of her time, but it didn’t make her happy. He understood that it was necessary, that it allowed her to have a home and enough to eat, but that didn’t stop him from wishing it could be different.

“If ya’s tired, ya could get som’ sleep now,” he offered.

“Why would I wanna sleep? I was lookin’ forward to spendin’ time together.”

“Don’t know tha’d stop us from spendin’ time t’gether,” he countered. “It’d jus’ be wi’ yer eyes shut… And ya’s tired, I can see it. Ya need som’ rest.”

She seemed unconvinced, so he sat up a little straighter on the couch and beckoned towards her with his fingers. “C’mere…” he said.

“What?” she asked, her voice full of both doubt and curiosity.

“C’mere,” he repeated, patting the top of his thigh with his hand. “Ya jus’ lay down righ’ here.”

“Hasil…” she protested, but then she sighed, warmth flooding into her cheeks as she offered him a tiny shy smile. Turning onto her knees, she made her way towards his end of the couch, and settled herself onto her side, her head resting against his leg. 

“There ya go…” he murmured. 

She shifted a little, turning her head back towards him, and then he could feel her take a breath, her body relaxing against his. His hand seemed to move of its own free will as it reached towards her, as he began to trace his fingers against her hairline. He had never really touched her hair – it was hard to be sure whether she would like it or not – but he remembered being a boy and how much he had loved it when his ma played with his hair as he fell asleep. Hers, though… hers was thick and so soft, the tiny hairs whispering gently against his skin. There was an unhurried rhythm to his motions, to the way he touched her, like a spell he didn’t dare to break. 

“Mmmm… that’s nice,” she said, closing her eyes.

“You r’member what I asked ya, ‘bout yer hair, when we firs’ met?”

“I remember,” she replied softly.

“You never tol’ me, how ya get it ta go like this.” 

“It’s nothin’ special, Hasil,” she said. “It’s jus’ in twists.”

He stilled his hand for a moment, letting it cradle the top of her head.

“Nah… I’s seen girls, up on the mountain, do their hair, curl an’ braid it up all kinds a’ ways. It’s nothin’ like what ya got.”

She smiled and lightly shrugged her shoulder, but didn’t say anything.

“The way ya got it all turn’d an’ coil’d,” he continued, “wrapped ‘round yer head like that, s’like… well, s’like ya’s wearin’ a great crown a’ shinin’ leaves, like ya’s the very top of a tree, the light a’ the sun catchin’ the edges a’ it just so…” He couldn’t help it; he traced his fingertips against her hairline again, marveling at the texture.

She didn’t move or make any kind of expression at all, and it was only after he had caught the rhythm of her shallow, even breathing that he realized she had fallen asleep.

He stopped his hand – it would be a shame to disturb her, when she was so clearly in need of sleep – and he gently lifted his arms and laid them down across the top of the couch. He leaned his head back, letting it rest against the faded upholstery, hearing nothing but the quiet of the room, her breathing, his own heartbeat.

Sitting there, it was so warm and soft and still, the silence suspended in the air like a dust mote in a beam of light. Hasil was fond of moments in the stillness. He guessed she probably was, too, if she ever got any, if she were ever allowed a moment’s rest. Everything down here was always so busy, so full of sound and commotion. It was exciting, of course, full of new things – wonderful things – but there was a reason he always found his way back home. There was peace up there, time, a deliberate slowness, where a whole afternoon could be lost in the pleasure of something without ever being drawn away by the sound of a ring or a beep. This girl laying against him – his girl – would never admit it, but she needed some of that peace and stillness, if not up on the mountain, then here at least, in this room, this tiny refuge.

He could feel his eyes growing heavy, and even though it had been his intention to stay awake, to watch over her for a time and then rouse her before the afternoon passed them by entirely, the pull of drowsiness was too strong. He took one last look at her before he closed his eyes, her face soft and relaxed, her lips barely parted with her quiet breaths, and then Hasil was lost too, surrendering to the oblivion, hoping he would find her once more when he was at last permitted to dream.

Hannibal Rewatch Recap: 2x13

**Warning: rewatch blogging, written with knowledge of the full series

Hey look at this cool verb definition of “welter” I didn’t know existed.

Alright so on that note…..

Season 2, Episode 13: “Mizumono”

Dr. Hannibal Lecter stands in his shadow-drawn office and writes Jack a pretty invitation to his death.

“Dr. Hannibal Lecter requests the pleasure of my company for dinner,” Jack reads to Will.

There is a fabulous bit of editing where we turn to Will sitting across from Jack, but listening to Hannibal. When we return to Will again he’s now in Hannibal’s office. Very neat, very very neat.

Hannibal, feeling nostalgic apparently, is all “if these chairs could talk….” He poetically starts going on about, well, poetry. And molecules and carbon and blood and emptiness and me and you, undeterred by the impeccable flatness of Will’s “flat announcements of disaster.”

They look like murder sprites or something. So angular and inky eyed.

I know everyone has expressed their delight/nerves over the ticking clock that fills this soundscape, but somehow I don’t think I’ve seen anyone mention the spins of a fishing reel. And I am aaaalll about that reel, ‘bout that reel, oh baby.

Keep reading

befitandchase  asked:

Because I'm overworked and need a break from writing, how 'bout some Olicity and failed sexting?

I normally do these things in order (well try to) but I just couldn’t get this idea out my head!!! SO yes I had to write this… Oh and yes I actually don’t use text language so I didn’t here either… I hope it makes sense, and hopefully makes you laugh :).

Also I’m posting this before I go out tonight so yes ENJOY!


Prove it.

It was a crazy busy day. Ever since she had learnt she owned Palmer Technologies and Oliver refused to take it back from her. She had been working so hard to bring it back to its former glory under the Queens name. So now she was sat in the CEO office, staring at so much paper work she had already had enough after all her morning meetings suddenly her phone beeped. Olivers name instantly made her smile.

Can’t wait to see you later ;)

Don’t think I can make lunch sorry, so much work to do

Oh… That’s a shame…

Sorry baby

It’s okay, I was just looking forward to devouring your lips

I’m so sorry, seriously I would if I could

Her phone was silent for a little while, as she turned her attention back to the papers in front of her when suddenly it beeped again.

I want to come over there, rip your clothes off and pound into you. Make you scream my name as you come all over the desk destroying all your paperwork…

She groaned her hands shaking slightly.

Oliver. Stop it! I have that much paper work I don’t even think any of it would get destroyed

That’s what you took from what I just said? Haha

Yes… I want to duck you too, but that’s not looking likely…

Duck? Hahahaha

FUCK! I want to fuck you Oliver… I want you so badly; I want to feel you stretch me, to bend me over the desk.

Her free hand fell to her breast, the floor was empty her assistant had gone to sort out some more paperwork. So she allowed herself this moment.

What are you wearing?

Doesn’t matter…

Oh yeh it does ;)

Just an orange dress

Felicity you’re not helping here, I’m so painfully hard right now

Prove it

She sent it before she even had time to think, she clenched her thighs closed at just the thought of him gloriously naked. Just then there was a tap on her door, her hand flew from her breast as she looked up to see Diggle striding in.

“Hey! What are you doing here?”

“Well someone said you might not get lunch so I am here to deliver it.” He handed over a brown paper bag and she happily took it placing it on the table. Her phone buzzed as Oliver replied, Diggles eyes glanced at the screen and she flipped it before he had a chance to see anything.

“Thanks John I really appreciate it.”

“Hey it’s Oliver you should thank, he made it.” She beamed then her heart fluttering in her chest. “I’ll see you later Felicity.” He said softly heading towards the exit. She grabbed her phone, turning it around to see an email from Oliver rather than a text. She shook her head as she opened it, the image of his cock in hand so painfully erect made her mouth dry, the dull throb in her centre growing. Then suddenly she saw the email sent to caption. Holy crap he had sent it to her mother as well.

OLIVER! You sent that email to my mother as well!

No way, I didn’t…

Oh yes you did!

Oh crap what am I meant to do?

Suddenly Felicity’s email chimed, Donna Smoak replied.

Oh god she’s replied Felicity!

Slowly she opened the message.

Nice to see my daughter has a VERY big guy taking care of all of her needs.
Even more so to know you two must be having one hell of a sex life.
But next time sweetie, maybe a little less eager and check who you’re sending it to. Mum xo

Felicity stared in disbelief at the message, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Well that certainly killed the mood

Yep, sorry my bad

It’s okay she handled that better than I thought

But I’m never going to live that down am I?

Probably not, maybe sexting shouldn’t be our thing

You’re probably right. I’ll see you later babe

See you later. Oh and thank you for the sandwich Diggle just delivered it. Smells amazing.

Nothing’s too much trouble for you

I love you xoxo

I love you too xoxo

She stared at her phone for a little while longer, before turning back to the paperwork. A soft smile unable to stop spreading as she thought about the man she loved.


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Intimidation is Key

Soul Evans was working with the FBI for a year when he received his first partner, a gangly blonde girl named Maka Albarn who had just been transferred from another unit. He wasn’t completely sure how he felt about having a partner at first, but she seemed to be alright. She definitely made things more interesting when they were out on the field, and she knew her shit pretty well, better than him. They had been working together for about six months now, and Soul had developed more intimate feelings for her. He knew it was bad to get with a colleague, so he never really acted on it. But that didn’t stop him from flirting with her on occasion. His favorite thing was teasing her about her looks, the poor girl did not look intimidating in the slightest.

“Just admit it, Maka, you can’t intimidate any of these crooks for nothing.” They were sitting at their desks, face to face, looking over the files for the case they were working on.

“I can be scary, you just never give me the chance.” Maka pouted.

Soul bowed his head to hide the smirk. “Sure you can. I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

HI! I love your blog!!! Can you write a story where for a case the reader and Sam must infiltrate in a school, and Sam is her professor and he gets really jealous when I see a reader's classmate flirt with her? (Sorry for the mistakes but English is not my first language)

**trigger warning: attempted suicide**

“Sam! Let’s go. I need to get in there! What he’ll do you have to do, other than brush your hair?” You yelled as you waited for Sam to hurry up in the bathroom.

Sam open the door, wearing black suit pants, and a button down white shirt, that he hadn’t buttoned up yet. “Well sorry. Go on, it’s all yours,” he smiled as you smirked and walked in the bathroom.

There was a case at North Wood High School, and because you looked so young, you were going to be a student, and Sam was going to be a professor. Sam believed there was a spirit that is haunting the school, and causing the students to kill themselves. There had already been three suicides, and one attempted. When Sam went to the police station to get the video from the attempted suicide, the student said he ‘had no control of his body’ and that he 'didn’t want to jump off the roof.’

You had taken a shower the night before, so all you did today was fix your hair and applied a little make up. The school didn’t make their kids wear uniforms, so you just wore your faded out skinny jeans, Nike tennis shoes, and a black tank top with your gray North Face jacket on top.

When you walked out the bathroom, you looked over at Sam, who now had his shirt buttoned, along with a black tie and jacket. You smiled as you walked over to him.

“Lose the tie,” you smiled as he listened and took it off. You unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt. “Good to go.”

“Let’s do this. What name did you use?”

“Y/n Cooper,” you smiled as you grabbed your bag.

When you got to the school, you went to the principle’s office to pick up your schedule. The lady greeted you, then gave your classes.

First you had english, then PE, then mathematics, and lastly science. Sam was teaching the English class as a fill in for Mrs. Bates. You walked down the hall and found the English room. You walked in and glanced at Sam, who was sitting on the desk. The students had already gotten in their seats when you walked in, and you looked for an open one.

“My name is Mr. Winchester. I’m filling in for Mrs. Bates as she is on maternity leave. I was also told you had a new student. Y/n Cooper,” sam said as he motioned for you, and you gave a small nod as you found a seat, towards the back of class.

You sat back in the desk and pulled your phone out, and texted Dean. 'You’re brother is my professor, how classy. You’re missing the fun. Feel better.’ Dean had went on a hunt with Sam and you, and he ended up breaking his leg and arm. He ended up being stuck in a cast and couldn’t hunt at the moment.

After a few minutes he texted back, 'Ew you’re in a school. How is that fun?’ You smirked.

“Ms. Cooper, something funny bout my lecture,” Sam said as you looked up.

“No, sorry,” you smiled at him as he just shrugged and kept teaching.

You opened your notebook and started drawing, instead of writing the notes. You weren’t actually a student, but you had to act like it.

“Hey, I’m Jacob,” you heard someone say, as you turned your head and came face to face with a guy who had brown eyes, and brown, shaggy hair. “Where you from?”

“South Dakota,” you said as you looked back at your drawing.

“What brings you here?”

“Parents wanted a fresh start, somewhere new,” you lied as he lean back in his seat. You saw a piece of paper slide on your desk, and you opened it. 'So, I want to get to know you. Wanna hang out tonight -J’

You looked back at Jacob and wrote a note back, and sent it back to him. 'Sure.’

You looked up and met Sam’s eyes and gave him a small smile. You felt Jacob tap your back, and slip the paper back on your test.

'Meet at the parking lot?’ You wrote back and put a simple 'okay.’ You passed it back and started drawing again.

When the bell rang, you walked out out of the class room and gave a glance at Sam. You smiled and found your way to the gym. When you walked up the gym teacher, he gave you a set of clothes and told you to go change in the locker room, along with the other girls. The gym outfits were just terrible. It was short red shorts, and a grey shirt.

You stuffed your bag in the locker, along with your clothes. When you just about to walk out of the locker room, you heard someone talking.

“I just can’t believe she is really gone. I mean, she was like so happy and popular, why would she just kill herself,” one of the girl said as you turned the corner, and faced them.

“Hi, I’m new here, but what happened?”

The two girls looked at each other, then you. “Jesslynn was a girl who went here. She killed herself two days ago, and her ex boyfriend, who is on the football team, attempted suicide yesterday. There was only three but Kyle was stopped.”

“And they were all pretty popular?”

“Yeah and they were happy. Which is why it is so hard to believe,” the other girl said as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Halfway through gym class, you were playing volleyball, along with the other classmates. The coach walked over to the door, and you saw Sam standing there. You hit the ball right before it hit the ground, and watched as your teammate spiked it down on the other side.

The coach blew his whistle as everyone turned to him. “Cooper!” You ran over to them and looked at Sam than the Coach.

“Yeah Coach?”

“Winchester needs to speak with you.”

You nodded as you walked outside the gym and looked at Sam. “What did you find?”

“Nothing really. I haven’t heard much,” he said as he looked down and smirked “nice shorts.”

“Shut up. Well, I found out that all the victims were popular and were really happy. None of them had any signs that they wanted to kill themselves.”

“So we need to find out who is doing this, and why. And who the next victim is going to be,” Sam said as he looked around then back at you. “So, what was that kid saying to you in class today?”

“Who,” you asked as you looked up at him. “Jacob? He’s just some kid.”

Sam nodded his head as he opened the gym door. “Go on, I’ll see you after school.” You nodded and walked back in the gym, getting back to the game.

When lunch came around, you went in the cafeteria and stood in line to buy a bottle of water. You scanned the cafeteria for anything that would pop out at you.

“Did you see the sub for Mrs. Bates?” You head someone saying. Another voice chimed in, “You mean Professor Winchester? More like professor sexy.” You smirked and paid for your water.

You were getting ready to walk out the cafeteria, when you felt an arm wrap around your shoulder. “Hey y/n. I saw you were all alone. Must suck being new.”

You looked at his arm on your shoulder then at him. “Jacob. Don’t scare me like that,” you laughed even though you wanted to break his arm right now.

“Why don’t you come sit with me and my friends?” He pointed over at a table where a few guys, who had football jackets on, we’re sitting.

“I actually am just gonna go sit in the library. I have a paper due,” you said as you looked at him, then glanced around, locking eyes with Sam, who seemed upset.

“Okay, well I’ll see you tonight darling,” he said as he kissed your cheek and rushed off,“ you looked at Sam who turned and walked away, and you walked after him.

Sam turned into the English class room, and you followed behind a few seconds later, shutting the door. "What was all that about,” he asked as he leaned against his desk.

“What was what about?”

“Him kissing your cheek. Just thought he was some kid,” he said as he crossed his arm, and you stood in front of him.

“Is someone jealous,” you smirked and crossed your arms also.

“I’m not jealous, y/n,” he said as he sat up straight.

“Oh, but I think you are,” you said as you walked closer to him.

“Well maybe I’m just too much in love with you to see some kid flirt with you and kiss your cheek,” Sam said as he got closer to you, and rubbed his fingertips on his arms.

“I would call that jealousy,” you whispered as you looked up and met his eyes. Sam leaned down, and kissed you softly, and pulled you against him. You rested your hands on his neck, pulling him closer.

When he pulled away, you looked up at him and bite your lip. You backed away a little and grabbed your bag. “I’ll see you after school, professor Winchester.” You winked and walked out of his room, then when to the bathroom.

You smiled in the mirror and touched your finger tips on your lips, and smiled. You looked up and saw a black shadow figure about you. You gasped as the spirit forced itself inside of you.

Suddenly you weren’t in control of your body. You were fighting, and fighting hard. You watched as you walked down the hallway, passing Sam’s room. You tried telling out to him, but nothing was happening. You watched as you walked outside and walked towards the busy street.

Sam looked out the window and saw you walking out to the highway that was in front of the school. He took off running to you, just as you stopped in the middle of the road, waiting for a car to come. You looked up and saw cars coming and your body about to step out again. Just as your body had moved forward an inch, you were pulled back into the grass by Sam, who then shoved salt in your mouth. That’s when you finally came back to yourself. You looked up as Sam, and hugged him tight as you started crying into his chest.

At the end of the school day, Sam and you were sitting in the classroom, as you sat in a desk, and looked around. Everyone was off campus now, except the teachers.

“It got to me, Sam. I don’t know who this guy thinks he is, but I almost died today. We need to figure out who it is.”

“Y/n, it scared me beyond death when I saw you walking to the highway. I couldn’t of let you die. Not on my watch,” he said as he got up and walked over to the door, shutting the blinds. You stood up and went over to him and hugged him tight.

The both of you stood there for a few minutes. Then sam pulled away and you looked up to him, to only see him looking at the wall with a confused face. “I know who it is.”

Sam moved away from you and started walking down the hall. “Mind telling the rest of the class Professor Winchester?” You smirked to yourself as you followed behind him.

“One of the teachers said that there was a trophy case by the gym and one of the baseball player’s gloves was in there. During a game, he slid to home, winning the game, but he shade red his knee. He was told he couldn’t never play again. Thing was, he had a scholarship, a full ride, but lost it. I didn’t think about it until now,” he said as he went to the case and grabbed the gloves and setting it on fire. “The kid killed himself. The victims didn’t start till after. He was mad he lost his scholarship, so he took away all of their dreams.”

“Did more than take away their dreams,” you muttered. “Well, good. Now what do we do?”

“Let’s stick around one more day just to make sure. Besides, I like seeing you in gym shorts,” he smirked as he walked back to his room, and you followed and rolled your eyes.